


bittersweet

by stardustardie



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, I had to write this, it's 2 am and i could have been asleep but no, this was initially supposed to be a mccree thing and as you can see i am an idiot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 05:58:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustardie/pseuds/stardustardie
Summary: You know very well that you're a little bit in love with Genji Shimada. You also know very well that there's no way he can return those feelings - not truly.





	bittersweet

When the youngest Shimada son approaches you with stars in his eyes and sake on his breath, you stop breathing for a moment.

“You are always there for me,” he says dreamily, leaning heavily on you as the two of you sit out in the cool night air. If you look - and you  _ really  _ don’t want to, you  _ really  _ don’t want to see his long lashes and beautiful expressions - you can make out the glimmer of affection in the dark depths of his irises. 

  
“With you, I feel like a person,” Genji continues, and the gentle brush of his knuckles on your thigh makes you sit up ramrod straight.  _ Oh, no. Oh, no. _ “Not like an object, like with the other girls. Not like Sojiro Shimada’s irresponsible son, Hanzo’s flighty brother. With you, I am  _ me,  _ and I love that.”

You see it coming a mile away, feel it in your bones, and it’s almost enough to make you storm off right then. But you can’t; you’re watching over him right now, making sure he doesn’t drink himself to death.

‘You’d best watch out,’ the head chef had warned you when you first began work at the Shimada estate. ‘That Genji Shimada is a heartbreaker, and he can’t resist a pretty girl.’

When Genji says, “I love you,” you feel the ground shatter underneath you. All you can hear after that is your own repeating thought, pounding again and again through your skull.

_ Not like this.  _

_ I don’t want your love. Not like this. _

_ Not now, when you don’t mean it. _

_ Not like this. _

His cool lips pressed to the corner of your mouth barely register against the stabbing pain in your heart, and you can’t bear it anymore.

“Mr. Shimada,” you interrupt, taking his hands in yours before he can cup your jaw. He blinks, the haze in his eyes never clearing, and laughs shortly.

“ _ No _ , not  _ Mister!  _ You make me sound like my brother: old and without humor. Please, call me Genji. I owe you that much.”

_ “Genji _ , then,” you concede, and try to ignore the way his expression warms delightedly. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late? You should really sleep now.”

“Sleep? It’s only eleven,” he protests, leaning back into you, and this time you stop him with palms flat on his chest. “Surely you don’t believe me to be  _ that  _ much of a child.”

This time confusion flickers in his gaze, and you think you can see a trace of unsurety behind the drunk stupor. The sight is enough to tear at your heart, and it cracks in half entirely when the confusion graduates to hurt, to realization.

“Oh,” he says.

And again, softer. Sadder.  _ “Oh. _ ” You can see it plainly in his face, the pain furrowing his brows and pulling him away from you. He curls into himself, and you know what he’s left unsaid.  _ You don’t want me, then.  _

And it’s a lie.

“Genji,” you plead, taking his hands once more. You can’t hurt him like this, not even when he’s hurt you first. You have to fix this. “ _ Genji _ , please listen to me. You are so important to me. You are  _ terribly  _ dear to me and I think about you constantly, more than I should. I think I even love you, too.”

Your words seem to have drawn him out of his shell; he looks up at you, questioning, listening. Maybe a little hopeful. You hurt. But you refuse to hurt him.

“No; I  _ do  _ love you.”

“Then why?” he whispers hoarsely. “Why do you shy away from me? You did not believe me, when I confessed to you. Why?”

“I tend to take anything said drunk with a grain of salt, Genji.” Your smile is sad; his expression is thoughtful. “Do you understand? You’re tired, and your judgment is impaired.”

You hold up a hand when he begins to protest.

“But, maybe, we could do this again… when you’re sober, and rested up, and without the looming threat of a hangover to ruin everything. Only  _ then  _ can we go further. Okay?”

You push down the feelings of bitterness threatening to rise up in your throat.  _ Only then can we go further _ , you said, knowing fully that his infatuation would be gone when he was sober, that this was not the first rush of love and affection he had felt for a servant.

The look of determination swelling on Genji’s face is focused, youthful, so beautiful you have to catch your breath for a moment.

“I understand.” He nods, sharply, as if you are a teacher doling out homework. “Then tomorrow, tomorrow I will confess, and we will finally be on the same page.”

_ If only.  _

A smile rises up onto his lips, then, humorous. 

“But first… a good-night kiss? Something to remember you by until the morning. After all…” The smile turns the slightest bit smug. “How will I sleep otherwise, knowing I missed such an opportunity?”

The ease of his attitude, his certainty and optimism, are both the most adorable and discouraging things you can imagine.

But since you can never deny this young man anything, and since you know you will never get the chance again, you sigh with false reluctance and smile wearily.

“Of course, Genji. Anything for you.”

The kiss is starshine and warmth for him, and bittersweet closure for you, and at that moment you’ve never been more hopelessly in love with the bright-eyed Sparrow.

It’s enough to bring tears to your eyes.


End file.
